“A man chooses a slave obeys”
Andrew Ryan
IC I-Ron-Butterfly-Traya
I-Ron connected himself into the holonet after listening to the response of Lady Caramel Phoenix.
“be constantly or visibly anxious.”
Ah, so that was what “Freetting” meant.
She was right. I-Ron didn't know why, or how one can be right at such an assessment. Inside his paradigm there was no room for such, he had to rely on others to complete his assessment of every situation. Can't help it.
Yes, the blast doors of the temple were enough that not even a nuclear detonation could hope to pry them open. One would need to be a giant crab, a mantis crab mind you, to hope to use raw unrelenting force to destroy the temple. It was a deterrent, one would hope that no one would dare to use such methods of siege against the temple, and so once your mind was out of that path it could go to another path, the path that was covered full of traps and secret doors and tunnels, and 10.000 cameras that I-Ron and his team of inquisitors made sure they were not tampered with.
Wow, being a giant crab that could muster the strength to destroy such a sturdy blast door would have been awesome. The peak of evolution. I-Ron took notes.
This time he allowed himself to rest, there was no communication or coordinates being delivered by anyone in the cyberworld. Nor anyone ready to strike at the moment Apollyon said “can you dig it?”, if she were to say such. A moment of rest before the coming storm.
People doing politics was not something he cared about, he was just carefully and with the full might of his sensor eyeing everyone.
Krayt, for example. It seemed he hadn't matured past the Clone Wars, he surely would be one with I-Ron, part of the Tusken Hive. He was one like him that shared the wisdom of the desert, that had lived in Tatooine as part of the tribe. His waster did not belonged to him, but to the tribe, his soul belonged to the desert. Funny thing, a bug should be, because his retina scans, and overall blood samples indicated he was another person entirely, however the conversations heard elsewhere and his bodily language indicated he was another person entirely.
He missed Tatooine, his soul now belonged to another desert, more full of oxide, red with blood. Now he was another cog in this machine. And then, wondered why someone like Krayt would not feel the same. They came from the same place, both siths, both tusken. Why was he not the same? Unfair, ugly. He hated it. Hated him.
Like the powerslave he was, he followed the orders of Lady Apollyon when the moment was called to be outside. He walked alongside her and stayed behind to watch her back, with no one to watch his.
Wait.
Outside? With the force all over us? And Siths that barely hide their contempt for each other?
I-Ron before doing that preferred to arm himself. He was disarmed, his weapons were in the ship. No good, he needed something fast. And so, before doing anything else, walked up to the kitchen, where his apprentice, Karin Welko, bored to death, was looking at the cooks and chefs, making sure the food was not poisoned.
“Is it time to go, my master?” She said, springing to action happy to see him.
“No. Give me your sword and shield.” In a monotone voice I-Ron said, shattering the smile of the apprentice. She obeyed him, giving him the hook-sword she made in a forge as part of a task, and a personal round energy shield that was stored in a gauntlet. The sword was alchemized, but was barely a talisman or object of power, rather the basic incantation that an apprentice was able to muster. Resistant to sabers and blasters, nothing more and nothing less. Like if I-Ron needed more. Extravagant things that oozed vulgar power were beneath him. He was quick and to the point.
He felt almost naked without weapons. Well, not naked like in a replica body with no clothes on, but more naked, really naked. Because at least the replica body has some skin.
“Go find your sister. Shadow her. You are the older one so make sure she is alright.” Finally I-Ron sent her on a mission, while he went with Apollyon.
IC- Karin Welko. Apprentice of I-Ron.
Karin inside her held a small jealousy for I-Ron and Sol. He was not like that with her, affectionate, caring. He was but a master that teached her blacksmithing and armorsmithing techniques. A walking library of extensive knowledge. She didn't had a demon inside, or a cool looking battle corset. Or the old sword of her master.She was but a walking computer when there was no holonet connection to go around asking things.
But hey, orders are orders.
Some people hold their necks with a semblance of nervousness. But Karin instead, held her firaxan shark necklace, still with the same intent. It was cold to the touch. Left her fingertips coated with ice.
Reminded her of home. Made of Ostrine and enchanted, it was the only thing that helped a marine creature to survive the scorching rays of Horuset unharmed, except from direct sun rays.
“Very well, off to find that redhead idiot.”
Using cryokinesis she left her number written on a cutting board for one of the cute chef´s helpers she was flirting with, instead of looking for poison in the food. She trailed her finger in the plastic to write, and then she left.
She started to walk amongst the labyrinthian corridors of the temple. The monolithic and ancient architecture blended with the modern, opulent and imperial. She was trying to find Sol, without actually trying, just walking around instead of contacting her to know her location.
“Sol! Sol! Are you there?” She yelled with no effort in her voice.
“Sol?”
IC I-Ron-Butterfly-Traya
How much time did passed between Volshe crowning herself the Empress of all the Sith and the arrival of Hesper? I-Ron did not knew. It was a single second, perhaps? The moment between a second and another second was a void so full that could store an infinite number of outcomes inside it. There was a garden of forking paths, that was to be sure, where the sith joined as one under her majesty's flag. Another where they all chose to kill her like the unworthy empress she was. Perhaps there was even another forking path where she simply was never conceived. I-Ron had no window to those variables, he was stuck in this one.
His mind reeling and about to break. It was tough love to be a Sith, a punch-drunk love.
Blood meant nothing for I-Ron. As an inquisitor you are expected to fit the mold, as a sith you are also, as a tusken you are also expected to be part of the tribe based solely on worthiness, judgement of character and ideological purity. No children of god were worthy if they did not acted like him, since the throne was to be eternal and never change hands. They were children, and so no need to mention them beyond training and training.
And with a quick look of the scanner. Yes, she was pregnant.
Now. The eldritch fiery Lord Kain made his statement known to everybody. Someone I-Ron considered him lesser than Dreadwar, in the vein of a demigod, then perhaps she ought to be listened to.
Nathemus sealed the deal. He was his master, after all. He knew better, and if he gave his axe to her, then he had to be listened to. He had a clear and privileged channel for listening to everything he was saying after all.
I-Ron was ready to give his full allegiance to the supreme Empress, clad in gilded sun touched robes. The might of the sun bombarding her in an etheric glory out of this world, a complete beauty and sensory overload that was almost eldritch and inefable.
Then she descended.
Not regal. Not opulent. She was just her. Like a fallen angel, a desert angel that blew away the red sands of Korriban at her landing. The Butcher of Coruscant, in all her glory, returning from whatever place she was. Disappearing after her massacre at the federation senate. She was the hammer that stomped out the democracy of the galaxy, a priestess that had alongside her faithfull knights, ready to strike. She was at home at last, talking about some unknown threat for the Sith. Yes, that's why she must unite us, I-Ron assumed. Blood did not mean anything for I-Ron, only ideology and character, and she had everything. She was after all, the best and most powerful apprentice of God, even Apollyon could not stand against her. She was, alongside Kain, a demigod in I-Ron´s cosmology.
“YES, SHE IS WORTHY.”
Where to go, where to go. I-Ron was conflicted beyond belief, completely stuned. He neede time to think about it, to retire into the privacy of his own mind, as he felt the clashing storm of swords inside his mind. A sword named Volshe and another named Hesper, slashing and hurting his mind´s eye.
This is too much, there is no place to go and hide.
Except…
He sent a message at the communicator of Sol.
“Hey. ”
“Hello, Sol.”
“Is it a bad time to send a message? Better be paying attention in class. ”
Some seconds passed between message and message.
“Okay, outside is a kriffshow . I'm scared, please go to my ship. I don't want anything to happen to you, yes?”
Then some other anxiety filled seconds passed.
“Answer me ASAP. ”
Then he stopped, because it seemed weird to send a lot of unprompted messages.
But, alas, he sent a final:
“Call me”.
For the outside world I-Ron should be like a immobile statue. Unable to read what was inside his mind, unable to move even.
He scanned the crowd. He finally arrived at the conclusion that, if he chose one side or the other, he was still an inquisitor. So he had to do what an inquisitor was meant to do. Instead of paying attention to the politics in the air he started to scan the crowd with his might and magic.
First, he saw Lord Catalyst disappear. I-Ron changed to his medical scanner. He could hear his heartbeat. Bah, he was his boss, he did not needed to check on him. And so he lost track of him.
His advanced hearing sensors were pointing to the crowd, if someone started to talk he would be hearing it, if someone started to chant something he would know.
There was no need for physical mobility for using his powers, outside the Sith Spells, and so, a Shard that was standing still behind Apollyon started to reach out using the force, opening himself to the crowd of people, to the entire ocean of Siths in front of him to try and look for their surface thoughts, looking for signs of corruption and betrayal just in case.
Power Used: Telepathy lvl 3
@Darth Dreadwar,
@Arach,
@dragonsith13,
@Grievance Vexx,
@corinthia,
@Drakul_Xarxes,
@G.Kn,
@Admiral Volshe,
@Darth Kain,
@Hadzuska_The Jester,
@Darth Nathemus,
@Darth Xirr,
@Darth Solus,
@DarthNoxia,
@Jihadi Quartz,
@Voidwalker,
@Ānhrā Māhnîu,
@Helkosh,
@Reatith Blodraald,
@Darth Thana,
@Sith_Imperios,
@Cardun Vrek,
@Darth Sedicious,
@DarthFeros,
@Darth Xxys,
@Metus,
@Catalyst,
@Nacros_Telcontare @Ānhrā Māhnîu,
@skira